The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (70 page)

Why?

His grandmother had been
an integral part of his upbringing, why wasn’t he crying his eyes
out? Why hadn’t he been reduced to rubble, a quivering mass of
useless mourning? Where were his emotions, his feelings for the
woman who was like a second mother to him?

Maybe, you’re just numb.
Maybe, things will change with time…
Time…
time, maybe...

He really didn’t know how
he was going to react to losing her with time, particularly due his
lack of response now. What would happen to him when the days
stretched and it became all the more evident they wouldn’t be
returning home? How would he be able to make it through the week
without talking to her, without seeing her and feeling her hug him?
For many years agone, he’d spent most of his weekends at his
grandmother’s house. It had become a habit ingrained so deeply in
their family, his mother and father and grandmother were all used
to planning their schedules around it. It was assumed he would be
going over to her house on the weekends to play on his laptop
computer, jacking into the network she had at her home. It was his
time away from his sisters. His time alone, to battle other clans
or defend against sieges or put together a well-balanced party to
harvest a decent Raid Boss. That was what he did. It was on the
weekends that he got in true, uninterrupted playtime, having to
help his grandmother around the house every once and a while. He
liked the tempo and the pace of his days there. Even though he
wasn’t truly alone, there was a degree of solitude or personal time
that was expected, and respected, by all.

His grandmother was always
traipsing around the house or was outside keeping up her garden,
watering her plants. His uncle was about too, sometimes joining him
on Lineage II from his upstairs bedroom where he had his desktop.
Or he would be watching sports or working in the yard as well,
doing some of the heavier yard work Anthony’s grandmother couldn’t
do by herself. There were always noises and voices all around, but
they were familiar, almost memorized, oftimes expected. To him, it
was like a symphony of sound, movement and thought, flowing around
him in concert, live. He’d come to enjoy those Saturday and Sunday
mornings, even when his sisters were staying over as well. Their
running around the house, their laughter and yelling were natural
sounds. Whether they played in the backyard or with their Lego’s or
silently on the floor behind him, he liked those noises. It didn’t
matter what was going on, the fact something was happening, was
comfort enough. It was a routine he’d come to rely upon…

Now, well now, it seemed
there would be nothing of the kind, here, in this place. There was
none of the usual noises, smells or sights. Everything would be
different now…

Why was he not crying over
it? Wasn’t it a dramatic, traumatizing loss? Why was he not
despondent beyond belief, the life sucked out of him? Why was he
not
feeling
what
he should be feeling?

Maybe, I just don’t know
how to react…

It was last thought he
could remember. He must’ve fallen asleep immediately
thereafter…

He glanced up and noticed,
while robotically rubbing sleep from his eyes, Sophie was sitting
on the other sleeping area much like him. She had one leg tucked
beneath her, the other stretched out before her, touching the
floor, an identical throw blanket gathered about her shoulders,
worn like a cape. She was staring down at Louis, who was now a
small bundle underneath a blanket, already asleep, most likely
comatose from too much sugar.

She had glanced up,
feeling his eyes on her, turning to look at him directly. He stared
back without an iota of self-consciousness or nervousness crossing
his mind. Not sure why. He was usually somewhat uneasy when a
pretty girl gazed upon him, unabashed, frank. Maybe he was just too
distracted, his mind not all there.

She seemed to read
something on his face that Anthony didn’t realize was there. She
smiled, warmly, with a blink or two of her eyes. She looked tired,
though she was trying to hide it.

He smiled back without
thinking, quickly. A small, confused chuckle escaped him. The
sudden galvanization of his will was too foreign. Still, he didn’t
look away.

She stood, walking toward
him.

He watched her move the
few feet separating them, unable to stop himself from admiring the
swing of her gait, her hips gliding to the left, then right with
each light step she took. She was so beautiful, so
feminine.

She sat down next to him
and surprised him even more by leaning against him, wordlessly, as
if she’d done it a thousand times.

“
You should rest, Anthony,
you look like crap,” she muttered from his side, her eyes facing
forward, making him grin and sigh at the same time. “I mean that in
a caring sort of way. I don’t want you to think I’m being rude or
anything.”

“
I know,” he had managed
after a second or two, already having understood the context of her
appraisal. “Maybe we both should,” he said. “You look as tired as I
feel and I’ve already slept for a bit.”

She shook with a small
laugh, “That bad, eh?”

“
I didn’t say you looked
bad or anything… I mean, you still look awesome to me. You just
look like you are ready to fall asleep any second now.”

“
You’re just being a nice
guy…”

“
Yeah, well, I’m a nice
guy who doesn’t lie – you still look very pretty, Sophie,” he said
it looking outward into the cavern, so she wouldn’t have to see him
blushing. He instantly wondered why he had been so willing to
compliment her.

“
Thanks, you’re sweet,”
she replied. Slowly, she leaned back toward the surface of the
furniture pads, taking Anthony with her, until they both were lying
side by side, gazing up at the ceiling of the cave. Its’ many
stalactites pointing back down at them. They laid there for a while
not moving, not speaking, merely looking upward, touching along the
entire length of their bodies, close, and warming.

“
How did we get here?”
asked Anthony out of the blue, surprising himself. Why had he said
it aloud? He kept thinking of the attack at his grandmother’s
house. He continued to see the melting of his former life right
before his eyes, how it had made him sick, made him pass out. He
kept playing it over and over in his head, trying to grasp the
totality of their situation. Only it kept slipping away, his mind
was too full, his brain too tired from the over-exertion. Like his
sisters, he needed to recharge, to rest, let go of some of the
stress even for a short while. Maybe then, he could think more
clearly. Maybe then, he could figure out what to do.

Why did it feel like
everything had happened weeks ago not less than the twenty-four
hours it had actually been? How could it be possible that so much
could change in so little time? It was bewildering.

“
I don’t know,” answered
Sophie, her voice thickening with sleep.

“
What are we going to do
now?” he asked a few moments later, more to himself than to Sophie,
still lost in thought. He’d been unfulfilled by any answer he could
conjure up in his beleaguered and weary condition.

“
I don’t know that either…
rest, Anthony,” was all Sophie said.

He nodded in agreement,
his thoughts still racing, until he fell asleep, again.

*****

He jerked awake abruptly,
feeling the comfortable pile of makeshift bedding beneath him, his
eyes darting this way and that. Having awakened so abruptly, he had
momentarily forgotten where he was for the second time that day. He
glanced next to him and saw his sisters still slumbering to one
side of him. While on the other, lay Sophie, staring back at him
with a languorous smile etched on her face.

It melted. “You woke me
up,” she said, playing at being petulant.

“
Sorry,” Anthony breathed
in a low voice, feeling his face flush at having slept next to the
girl and then lacking the panache to awaken slowly and not wake her
in the process.

Sophie grinned anew at his
discomfort, but stayed silent, just watching. Her eyes darted over
his face as she lay on her side facing him, making him even more
timorous.

He was instantly shy, not
able to stand up to her gaze, his former bravado deserting him. He
sat up and quickly rubbed the sleep from his face for the second
time in the past few hours and ran a hand through his hair, which
still pulled back in a half-pony tail. He quickly re-made
it.

Sophie stretched beside
him, pointing her toes in the boots she’d forgotten to take off.
She arched her back, rolling over slowly and sitting up. She faced
Anthony as she shook out her incredibly pale hair, poking at the
corners of her eyes.

Anthony peered at her from
the corner of his vision, not sure if he wanted her to catch on he
was looking at her far too much. Despite the notion, he was unable
to take his eyes from her one way or another.

She pulled her athletic
form in a taut stretch. Her small belly button peaked out from
underneath her sweater and shirt. Both had ridden up while she had
slept. He was suddenly confused by what he was feeling, not sure
what to make of it.
Her skin looks so
smooth there.

“
Should we go back to the
fire and see what the others are up too?” suggested Sophie, pulling
a Scrunchie from one of the front pockets of her jeans. Deftly, she
pulled her hair back in a ponytail, squinting at him as she did
so.

Anthony shook
himself.
God, she is beautiful,
he thought and gulped down a quick breath of
air.

“
Yeah, I think we should,”
began Anthony, trying to think of anything else but the magnetic
force he felt from the girl. “I think we have to sort out what
we’re going to do next. I mean, we can stay here for a while, but
eventually we’re going to have to find out why all of this
happened. And, we’re going to have to find the rest of the
Guardians.”

“
You think there are more
kids like us out there?” she asserted, a troubled look on her
face.

He knew she was thinking
of the cold and the snow, wondering how long someone could survive
out there, exposed to the elements.

Not for very long, we will
have to do something and fast!

“
I know for certain there
are more,” declared Anthony. “When we were being held by Fenris and
his minions, he mentioned to them - we overheard - that are twelve
of us.”

Sophie’s brow furled at
his answer. “Is this Fenris one of the ‘
monsters
’ Jason was talking to me
about?”

Anthony stared at her for
a few heartbeats, blinking, realizing she might know considerably
less him and the rest of his companions, excepting Louis. He got up
from the makeshift bed and extended his hand toward the girl,
offering his assistance. “Come on, I think it is time for
everything to be explained and understood. It just hit me upside
the head, not all of us are on the same page. We’ll have to remedy
that, because we need to figure out what to do. And, we cannot do
that, if our combined brain-power isn’t working on the same issue,
coherently, pointed toward a common goal. We need to be on the same
page.” His tone was urgent now.

She took his hand and let
him help her to stand. She was delicate in his grip. Anthony’s hand
seemed to engulf hers. Moreso, now she was no longer wearing
gloves.

Such small
hands…

“
You’re telling me there
are four more kids out there, right now, in the snow without
shelter, possibly freezing to death as we speak?” Sophie’s voice
was almost cracking with anguish at the thought of being alone in
this inhospitable world.

Anthony’s lips formed a
sorrowful cast, down turned at his forthcoming bleak, but honest
assessment of the situation. “Yes.” It was all he said. It was all
he could say for the moment. He turned toward the fire
pit.

Sophie gripped his hand
harder, determined to not let it go. Together, they made their way
toward the center of the cave, holding hands.

He found, he didn’t mind
it in the least.

Jason and Kodiak were
standing over the sitting form of Joaquin, who had his head resting
upon his knees. His legs were folded up before him, his hands
clasped together and resting on top of his head. It was easy to see
something was agitating them.

Jason gave them a brief
acknowledgement as they approached. His gaze fell briefly to the
clasped hands of Anthony and Sophie. An infinitesimal smirk rippled
across his lips, but it was gone the moment he looked back at his
friend, replaced by unadulterated anxiety.

“
What’s wrong?” inquired
Anthony as Kodiak moved slightly to the side to give them room as
they neared the fire.

“
Joaquin is not himself,”
replied Kodiak in her rumbling basso profundo-like voice, “for some
time now he has been plagued with a severely aching
skull.”

“
He has a headache?”
ventured Sophie at Anthony’s side.

“
That is
correct.”